Airplanes
by BobHasRainbowVeins
Summary: Alfred is done with living, and the pills on his nightstand are calling his name. Maybe it's too late for even Arthur to save him...  T for brief mentions of suicide


_Can we pretend that _

_Airplanes in the night sky_

_Are like shooting stars?_

_I could really use a_

_Wish right now…_

_Wish right now…_

_Wish right now…_

** xXx**

Alfred stared blankly at the bright screen in front of him. The brightness hurt his eyes.

His finger swiped downward, scrolling down the page on the internet. His entire hand stung as if it had been smashed by a hammer.

His room was filled with a song that was once overplayed, but he hadn't heard it in years. The melody fell on deaf ears, though. It hurt too much to listen. No, he was tired of listening.

He was tired of listening. He was tired of hurting. He was tired of it all. He was tired… of no one caring.

The pills on the teenager's nightstand called to him. They would end his pain. They would take him to a better place. A place where it would finally be quiet.

It was his last night in a place he didn't belong. He gave himself an hour to burn off on the computer, to play mindless games, to look at ridiculous pictures, and to figure out how to tell his boyfriend goodbye.

Arthur was like a ray of light that radiated and tore through the darkness that surrounded him. Alfred loved him more than he loved himself; so much more that he knew he deserved better. Once he was out of the way, Arthur would move on and get someone he truly deserved.

He tapped his mouse thoughtlessly, not sure what to do. He looked up weird pictures that he knew Arthur might enjoy, and he sent them to him through email. At the bottom of his message, he wrote what some could consider a suicide note. Others might think of it as a concerning message, or a cry for help.

'_I was just looking on the web and found these. I hope these make you smile. Just keep smiling, and everything will be ok. I love you._'

After sending the message, he picked up his phone and quickly dialed a familiar number.

"Huh? Al? I just got your e-mail. What is with you sending me all of these crazy pictures lately? I don't understand you sometimes. Oh well. Let's see what we have here...'

A knot weaved itself into his stomach as he listened to his boyfriend. Would his Artie miss him? Did he _want_ him to miss him? Doubt and conflict swarmed around in his already clouded head. He thought it might just burst.

"..Al, this picture—what am I even looking at? I-is that Queen Elizabeth! –Ahaha!"

Alfred bit his lower lip as it began to tremble and he could feel pressure around his eyes from tears that wanted to force their way out. He wouldn't let them fall. He couldn't.

"Ha, I remember this! Where on earth did you find this? God, I need to save this to my computer. I always knew that guy was a tosser."

The sound of Arthur's voice reverberated in his ears, down to the core of his spine. His laughter shook the poor, depressed boy. He wasn't sure whether he was beginning to feel better or worse. He had a feeling that it was the latter.

"Oh, hey! This reminds me of our first date! You were eating that hamburger and the ketchup bottle exploded all over your shirt. Oh god, your face was so priceless…"

An hour. He spent an hour on the phone, listening to a Brit who went through a long set of pictures. He listened to his laughter. He listened to him as cherished memories were brought up. He listened to his words, and how kindly he spoke of his silly American boyfriend. He spent an entire hour holding onto his cell as if it were a lifeline. His hour was up.

"How unfortunate…I've looked through all of the pictures. It's getting late, too. I should probably head off to bed now…hmm, what's this? A little message at the end of your e-mail…"

He didn't utter a word. Instead, he waited for a response to his note. The other boy became startlingly quiet as well.

"…Al…a-are you ok?"

The first tear fell down his face. Then came a second. Before he knew it, they were flowing freely and he couldn't stop them. Pathetic hiccups rocked his body and it became exceedingly difficult for him to hold his phone. There was something different about these tears, though. Maybe it was because he had finally let them out. Maybe it was because he thought crying would make it harder. Or maybe…maybe because he was smiling.

Alfred used his free hand to take his glasses off and set them on his desk so he could wipe his damp eyes. His hiccups began to sound similar to that of strangled chuckles. He no longer knew whether he was laughing or crying, and he didn't care.

All the while, Arthur remained silent, confused. Hopeful.

A few minutes later, Al exhaled heavily, closing the laptop in front of him ever so slowly.

"...yeah." The raspy voice surprised both boys; it sounded so underused, and yet, so abused. But it was no longer heavy, burdened, nor was it filled with malice. "…yeah. I'm ok. I'll be ok. I've got to go to bed now. Night, Arthur."

"…Good night, Alfred."

He ended the call and set his phone down next to his glasses. His heart felt lighter. Somehow, he could smile. He smiled honestly for the first time in a while.

His blue eyes wandered around his dark bedroom, and his gaze finally fell on the dull orange bottle that was filled to the brim with large tablets. He got to his feet and trudged over to it. Hesitantly, his hand wrapped around it. It felt cold compared to his unusually warm hand.

In one swift movement, he tossed it across the room, shooting the bottle straight into his trash can. The pills felt like less of a threat when they were in a place they belonged.

Alfred let out a giant sigh, feeling tons of weight roll off of his shoulders. He still carried a heavy burden, but he did feel better.

Unknowingly, he picked up the picture frame that was on the nightstand, next to where the pills had been. Though the image was blurry since he did not have his glasses on, he could still make out the picture. It was one he had taken of Arthur. The Briton was flashing him one of his rare yet meaningful smiles. He truly looked beautiful; there was no wonder why Alfred cherished that particular picture.

Instead of placing it back on the nightstand right away, he brought it to his lips, kissing it gently and whispering against it. "I love you, Arthur. Thank you. I really needed that."

Arthur was the light that shone through Alfred's darkness; his shooting star.

**xXx **

_Wish granted._

* * *

><p><em><strong>oOo<strong>_

* * *

><p>Hey guys! So, this was originally supposed to be really super short, but I guess it didn't turn out that way…..oh well!<p>

This was actually based off of a dream I had. I added a few things at the end, but yeah. I had a dream that Al called Arthur up and sent him pictures and he was really depressed. He just sat there listening to Arthur laugh and he realized that he couldn't lose the one he valued most. Something just seriously hit him, and he finally understood what had kept him alive for so long; _who_had kept him alive.

When I woke up, Airplanes was stuck in my head. Crazy.  
>Fave, Review, whatever. Hope you enjoyed xD<p>

**Song inspiration for fic**- /watch?v=MNAb6h6WL


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